When my children were younger, they all loved to be carried. They would come up and lift their chubby little arms up just begging you to hold them. My heart would melt, and I would end up carrying them even though I knew they could should walk. Sometimes, it was when they had been walking, and were exhausted. They just couldn’t walk anymore. I loved knowing that my children wanted me to hold them. So we would pick them up and snuggle them in our arms, even though we knew we were going to be worn-out from lifting them because we loved them. To me, it was such a simple, yet beautiful demonstration of their love and trust. It was comforting to them to know that mommy or daddy was holding them. They felt safe. I imagine that our heavenly father, whose love for us makes any other love look like rags, must feel the same way. He’s waiting longing for those times when we run into his arms saying, “Daddy, carry me.”...